Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow Restored with Cayce Treatment

In the middle of August 1992, 1 was preparing to go back to work as a migrant recruiter for our local school district. My friendly beautician who had been doing my hair for a couple of years said:
‘Ms. Wofford, did you know you have a bald spot – on the left side, right here?’
‘No,’ I answered, not really concerned. I hardly looked up from my Venture Inward.
She explained, ‘It’s not really very big – about the size of a quarter.’ She did have me look, but with the curlers it was hardly noticeable. My hair was red, thick, and healthy; I had always been blessed with good hair. As a teen and young woman it was my best asset.

I hardly gave it another thought for weeks. Then shampooing my hair one evening in late September I saw the spot and thought to myself – that’s bigger than a quarter; it’s more like a half-dollar – maybe bigger. ‘Hmm, I better get out my Cayce book and see what to do.’ I said, referring to my worn, dog- eared copy of Drugless Therapy. But I was ‘busy busy’ and didn’t.

It was about the middle of October when I got really scared. The bald spot had definitely increased and my mouth felt I open in astonishment. I am losing my hair. I’m going bald! Fear is a tremendous motivator. Suddenly, I found time to do my re- search and order supplies.

The first treatment was done the first week of November. The crude oil smelled awful, but it didn’t hurt. I kept it on my head a full hour, although Cayce says a minimum of one-half hour. Rinsing was difficult. To get all the oil out might take as many as five rinses. Sometimes the smell is still there.

I wish I had documented the treatments with the exact dates and times. I know that I started in November applying the oil three times per week. I also know that by December the bald spot had grown wide as my hand over my left temple and going straight back: it looked like the Grand Canyon to me. I had begun to wear scarves to cover up. But before Christmas, I had graduated to a wig; the area could no longer be “combed over.”

I continued the treatments faithfully. By the end of January, after three months of treatments, some little ‘peach fuzz’ appeared. I was so-o-o happy. At first I thought it was just my imagination. I called my family for verification. “is it really growing back?” I asked. They seemed to think it was.

With creativity and imagination, I developed several potato-peeling recipes. In fact, I really learned to like them, especially sautched in peanut oil, with onion, carrots, and celery. I put them on crunchy whole wheat toast, making a sandwich. Yummy!

Closely examining my scalp in March, I found there was definite new hair growth! It was “seeable’! And it was silver gray. Sometime in May I discarded the wig and the scarves. At first, I resented the eight-inch spray of gray, but after many compliments, I began to think it stylish.

My hair growth was complete by July. Too fearful to stop the treatments completely, I just slowed down.

Then a strange thing happened. The gray was coming in red again. Or was it? Before Thanksgiving I could tell for sure it was. By Christmas, 1993, my hair was back to normal, thick, shiny, and red. Only a year ago, I was almost bald and wearing wigs.

I continued treatments off and on all during 1994, perhaps once a month, as a preventative. Now it is March, 1995, and I’ve had no further trouble. It’s as if it never happened, except in my memory.

Now when I hear someone complain that their hair is just awful or they can’t do a thing with it, I gently say “Just be thankful you have hair.” And I mean it!